The world is but an oyster
which we all are forced to inhabit
in a scramble of arms, legs and meaningful dreams.
A disaster in the wake.
A broken-hearted fowl.
A disinterested love interest
with a clasp on the bitter reality of rain clouds and hurricanes.
We lie in the waiting,
tell truth in the rush,
inpatient,
immoral.
We never really understood the world and how it rolls.

We should smell the flowers sometime.

*-Yes...we should

Like poetry in his ears,
       She whispered softly
As the sun and moon set together
Putting the universe into an un-ticking frame.

The humans, now plunged into fear as time has now stopped,
And their bedtime stories of religion and science both have collided into a twisted grim tale.
          A horror story?
     A horror film.
   A chainsaw massacre in its un-bloodied glory.
Death.

The stopping of ones time for ones self.
  Its unimaginable stopping of minuets thickly spread
       With the promise of heaven
And the blackmail of hell.